


strong enough

by courageous_boss



Series: Home [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Shazam! (2019)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courageous_boss/pseuds/courageous_boss
Summary: Freddy can take care of himself.Everyone who knows him knows that. He’s strong and smart and brave. He doesn’t need anyone to fight his battles.But, his old injuries have been flaring up. When he moves, his spine lights on fire and every step makes it worse. No one seems to care, even when he hobbles onto the train. He uses the last of his pocket money on the transport and even with his crutch, no one gets up to give him a seat.Usually, he could stand on his own and wait. Today, his eyes are swimming and he feels dizzy.He’s so lost in his pain that he finches when little hands come to touch his carefully. His vision is fuzzy and he stumbles along as some tiny person leads him to a seat.As he catches himself, he comes to see a tiny, serious face growling at anyone who even dared to look at him.





	strong enough

Freddy is strong.

He’s smart and brave and fast and powerful and tireless. He can fly and jump and run and shoot lightning bolts out of his hands.

Except, he isn’t.

Captain Marvel Jr is. He’s like a God – faster than Flash, more handsome than Superman, smarter than Batman, braver than Wonder Woman.

Freddy is small and weak and tired and –

Freddy is in _pain_.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, the pain in his spine slices through him and he can't bring himself to sit up.

It’s lingering pain. Not nearly as bad as it had been when he’d first been injured. Not that Freddy can really remember how it had felt back then.

It happened more when he’d get pushed around in school but since Billy arrived, that had happened less and less. So much so that he’d forgotten how it felt. He’d stopped expecting his stomach to turn when he climbed out of bed. He’d stopped having to bother Mary in the middle of the night because it was so bad that he couldn’t sleep. He’d stopped having to lay so still that the muscles wouldn’t twitch and ripple pain through his body.

Until the pain returns, and he does.

 

* * *

 

It’s bad. There’s nothing that prompts it, which is equal parts annoying and terrifying.

It just… _hurts_.

Like hell.

His spine feels like a glow stick that’s halfway being cracked. Part brittle and shattering, part gooey and mushy.

Mary’s gone for the day – some interview with some school – and Billy’s been away with League stuff.

Freddy can’t bring himself to ask the others for help. He knows they would. They love him and care for him and want to take care of him. But they always look so scared and concerned. Freddy can’t be responsible for putting that look on their face.

Freddy downs two of the pills he keeps in the bathroom. Takes a hot shower, rubs his back gently. The pain eases down to a dull throbbing and he thinks he can manage it for the day.

Rosa takes one look at him and immediately knows something’s wrong. Victor knows too, but he’s much more discrete about it.

“Freddy, are you feeling okay, my love?” She asks, worrying already.

Freddy pastes on a smile, glances at his seat at the table. Darla’s eating some cereal and there’s a bowl laid out for him too. Freddy just doesn’t think he can manage sitting down right now.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m not hungry,” Freddy says. It’s not a lie. His stomach is whirling.

Rosa knows, smiles softly at him. “Okay, love. You be sure to call us if you need anything, okay?”

Freddy nods, smile more sincere now. Victor ruffles his hair as he leaves, careful not to apply any pressure in fear that Freddy might collapse. If it had been anyone else, Freddy would have scorned their pity. But Rosa and Victor are family. It’s not pity. It’s love.

 

* * *

 

Freddy makes it through the day.

He has it managed. He’d taken two more pills at lunch.

All that was left was the walk home.

He could do this.

 

* * *

 

He hardly makes it one block before his vision fuzzes.

He leans his weight on his crutch, nearly falling over when his arm trembles and his elbow buckles.

He hasn’t eaten all day, yet he feels like he needs to puke. He’s reasonable enough to admit that walking home like this wasn’t possible. There are still two blocks until he’s home.

He has some change in his pocket. He’d been saving it for emergencies. He hadn’t thought that his spine would have constituted as an ‘emergency’.

It’s almost too much to hobble to the subway. By the time he’s down the stairs, he’s dizzy and red in the face. He’s fighting down tears. Half of him is begging for someone, _anyone_ , to notice how much pain he’s in and help him. The other half wants to crawl into a corner and hide.

He pays for his ticket, each step harder than the next. He crosses the doorway into the subway train, ears ringing. His shoulder his burning and his good leg feels as heavy as lead.

He needs to sit down.

He peers around, eyes darting first to the designated handicapped seats.

Occupied.

Desperately, he searches the other benches for an empty space. He’s sweating and red and trembling. He really, really needs to sit down.

He can't find a seat. No one’s moving. No one’s shifting over.

His ears are ringing. His vision is fizzy. He grabs onto the nearest pole, fingers shaky and grip weak.

He stands there for what feels like hours until something warm brushes up against his fingers.

He can't focus enough to see who it is. Just lets tiny fingers pry his grip off the pole. Then, there are gentle hands on his hips, guiding him forward. His cheeks feel so, so hot and he can't see anything. Hears distorted, droning noises in his ears.

He’s so tired.

Finally. _Finally_ , someone gets him sitting down. He hears his crutch clatter to the ground. Hears a disgruntled curse and a frantic apology.

He can't keep up.

He closes his eyes and rests.

 

* * *

 

He can't be sure how long he’d been asleep for – seconds, minutes, hours – just that it wasn’t long enough.

He’s exhausted. He should have just stayed in bed.

He blinks his eyes open, scrubbing the fuzziness from them. He grumbles when his fingers come away with a stickiness that’s evidence that he’d been crying.

He blinks again, focusing on a small form standing in front of him.

It’s a little boy, tan skin, dark hair. He’s standing very seriously. Very protectively. The subway is moving, but the kid is rooting in place with the fierce power of stubbornness. It’s all very familiar. Then, a man glances in Freddy’s direction and the kid – just. _Growls_.

The man yelps and looks away and the boy turns around to check on him.

“Oh! You’re awake!” the boy beams, smiling so wide Freddy’s sure it hurts. It reminds him of Darla.

“Um, yeah,” Freddy blushes, “Were you the one who helped me earlier?”

The boy nods, head bobbling about excitedly. “Yes, you looked like you needed to sit. I’m sorry I touched you without permission. I tried to ask but you weren’t answering me.”

The boy is flushing, all red and embarrassed. Freddy has the distinct, fraternal urge to pinch his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Freddy breathes. This kid doesn’t know it but already has him wrapped around his little finger.

The boy, as expected, turns ever redder and brings his shoulders up to hide his ears.

“I’m Freddy,” Freddy holds out his hand, breathing in relief when he sees that the tremors are gone. The pain in his back is still there but has subsided substantially.

“I’m Dick,” the boy says, reaching out his tiny hand to shake Freddy’s.

“Well, Dick. I guess that makes you my hero,” Freddy praises, just to see how red he can get the boy.

Dick’s nearly the color of Billy’s suit as he turns his head down to the ground, fingers twirling together. When he brings his gaze up to meet Freddy, his eyes are earnest, “I was just helping. That’s not special – that’s human.”

 

* * *

 

Dick insists on walking him home, prattling on and on about something silly he’d done at home. the story involved hanging from a chandelier and freefalling down three levels in a building, so Freddy was pretty sure the entire thing was fabricated. Dick was a little kid – they tended to exaggerate. Still, Freddy humored him, gasping and asking all sorts of ridiculous questions just to hear the answers Dick would come up with.

“Do you want to come inside?” Freddy asks him, feeling a bit worried at letting the kid walk back alone.

“No, I should get back. My butler will worry,” Dick says.

Freddy nods along, pretending as though its completely believable that Dick has a butler waiting on him at home. “If you say so. Stay safe, okay?”

Dick nods and skips off. He stops abruptly and giggles hysterically for a bit. Then, smiling very mischievously, he says, “Can you tell Billy I said hi?”

“What? You know Billy?”

Dick nods, grinning like Cheshire cat, in on some joke that Freddy’s oblivious to. “Billy? He’s my friend. He talks about you all the time.”

Its Freddy’s turn to blush as Dick scampers off, giggling as he goes.

 

* * *

 

Freddy runs a hot bath and soaks his muscles for a bit, urging them to relax.

As he does, he pulls up Dick’s name on his phone. He can't tell what it is exactly, but something about the boy makes him feel like he knew him.

It doesn’t take many clicks until he finds his name.

Dick Grayson.

Of the late Flying Graysons.

Currently the ward of Bruce Wayne – the richest man on the East Coast.

And somehow Billy’s secret best friend.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, when Billy is home and Freddy finally has someone to care for him (when it’s his back, only Mary and Billy can touch), Freddy says, “Something strange happened today.”

 “Yeah, what?” Billy asks. Billy knows how to rub his back gently and carefully. It’s not much help more than having someone with him through the pain, but it’s a lot for Freddy.

“There was this kid on the train. He um, I have no idea how to say this,” Freddy chuckles. “He was guarding me, I guess. Glaring at anyone who even glanced at me.”

Billy snorts, “Oh, the youth.”

“Yeah, except it was Dick Grayson. You know, that rich kid from Gotham,” Freddy says, feels Billy freeze.

“Oh?”

“He also said you were his friend,” Freddy drops his voice to a faux growl. “How could you? He’s so cute. Maybe even as cute as Darla was before she got old and grumpy. Why are you keeping him all to yourself? Why haven’t you been letting all of us spoil him?”

To be honest, Dick had seemed lonely somehow. There was no real reason for him to be on a train in Philadelphia except for aimless wandering. Freddy was a strong supporter of children feeling wanted and having a place to belong. To think that Billy knew about this boy and hadn’t offered up their strange, little family to him was a bit maddening.

Billy sighs, pondering his answer for a few seconds. When he finally answers, it’s with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Batman told me not to.”

 

* * *

 

(It’s years later when Freddy can wrestle Dick Grayson – he’d kept his short, slim stature through the years – and give him a gentle, big brother noogie.

“Eek!” Dick squirms, face flushing.

Freddy moves his hands to bring Dick into a hug instead, holding Nightwing against his chest the way he only ever held his siblings.

“You’re getting a bit heavy there,” Freddy teases when Nightwing leans against him more. They’ve both got a similar, lean physique but Freddy has super strength on his side.

“Hey!” Nightwing squawks, affronted, poking Freddy’s stomach. It’s muscled and toned as Captain Marvel Jr and Nightwing’s finger can't even push against his skin.

Still, Freddy huffs, doubling over so he’s crushing Nightwing with his body weight. Nightwing laughs and struggles to throw him off, pulling him closer at the same time. It’s harder and harder every day to see this side of Nightwing. All smiles and giggles and playful teasing. There’s a lot going on in Gotham and from what Freddy’s heard, most of it isn’t good.

He hardly catches glimpses of Robin’s smile on Nightwing’s face anymore. It just makes it all the more worthwhile to wrestle it out of him. His smile still lights up the room and already Freddy can feel the tension bleeding out of Nightwing’s shoulders.

Freddy knows now that he’d been lucky enough to have his own Robin escort on the train that day.

And Robin has forever been doomed to have his own Captain Marvel Jr escort.)

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Dick's stories are definately not made up
> 
> (2) The reason Dick was in Philadelphia was that Bruce was on League business (same as Billy) and he was lonely


End file.
